


Multiplicity

by Maiden_of_the_Moon



Series: Bicentennial Series [4]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Family, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_the_Moon/pseuds/Maiden_of_the_Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Be fruitful and multiply," the Bible orders. And once given an order, bound demons are obligated to obey. (A collection of one-shots, set chronologically after "Hitches and Knots" and "666." SebaCiel.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cats and Dogs

**Disclaimer:** No already! XD;

**Author's Note:** So technically I'm supposed to be working on my new chapter fic… But then Tatum and Brina had to go and be AWESOME and thoroughly distract me, haha~ (Can you blame me? Sebastian proposed to Ciel! "FIVE THOUSAND" JUST BECAME SO CANON. XD) Thus, I decided to celebrate by taking a quick break and pumping out a drabble for the "Bicentennial" series. I hope y'all enjoy it. :'D

**Warnings:** SebaCiel. Fluff. Part of the "Bicentennial" series ("Bicentennial," "Inevitable," "Five Thousand," "Timetable," and "Coffee Break"); takes place after "Five Thousand." Slapdash editing. Inspired by conversations with Madeleine Elizabeth and the (God help me) "Nyan Cat" song. XD; And hey, here's a fun fact: "nyan nyan suru" ("to meow meow") was an 80s euphemism for having sex, over in Japan.

**Dedication:** For Tatum and Brina. ASDFGHJK YOU GUYS. :'D

**XXX**

**Cats and Dogs**

**XXX**

**6:02 PM**

"For the love of all things unholy, Sebastian, turn that off right this _instant_."

Momentarily distracted from his shiny new laptop— and the incessant music pouring from its silvery speakers—, Sebastian's fancy fell instead upon something far sweeter: the sound of his young master's exasperated bitching. (He would admit, he was a man of acquired tastes. As all of his friends had taken to reminding him on movie nights; damn them and their lack of appreciation for Clooney…) Though sour moods were not in any way unusual for the younger demon, the butler supposed Ciel had an actual _right_ to be in a foul temper, this evening; he had just returned home from his first shift at Starbucks, and it seemed obvious that things hadn't gone well. Though his lord was an excellent businessman, he had never been one to appreciate or understand the finer points of customer service, most notably the concept of patience. It didn't help that the poor not-boy had been forced to maintain a girlskin at work, all for the sake of inconspicuousness. It wasn't an unfamiliar disguise, but that didn't mean he liked it; Ciel found many forms uncomfortable, and this particular ponytailed fop was one of them. As he stormed into the living room, he glowered at his husband (who was seated ever-so-innocently at his uncluttered desk, open computer blaring) and ripped off his jade-green apron, shrinking a good foot as he did so. He then lost an additional three inches as he kicked off pointed heels; his brown hair faded to twilight gray and his bosom deflated against his breast.

And all the while, the music played.

" _Sebastian._ " Ciel's voice, full of dark warning, recalibrated and readjusted itself, falling back into its regular register as his face became his own again. He glared at his servant like he would a disobedient dog. "I believe I told you to turn that blasted song _off_."

Still lounging before his laptop—but now looking very tempted by the space on the sofa beside his irritated spouse—Sebastian hesitated with one finger on the mouse. "…can I not at least enjoy the tune to its conclusion, my lord?" he tried, expression innocuous. But his master, as per normal, was not fooled for a millisecond.

"Don't play dumb with me," the once-earl growled, propping sore feet atop the cool surface of the glass coffee table. (And because it was Ciel, Sebastian didn't say anything about it.) "You know as well as I do that that's one of those looped monstrosities. It will play on and on until your computer turns to dust. Or until I break it by ramming my fist through the screen. Most likely the latter."

…touché.

"Oh, come now, my lord," Sebastian tried to pacify, spinning 'round in his spindly chair and shooting his charge a winning grin. It seemed very much like a wasted effort, but that had never stopped the demon before. "It is fun and catchy!"

"…it is called the 'nyan song,'" Ciel droned, expression as emotionless and dry as his tone. He laced black-tipped fingers across his stomach, glowering down the length of his prone figure. "It features a cat. A cat made of toast. In fact, I'm fairly certain that's the only reason why you _like_ it."

"No, I— well, yes, there is that," the other confessed, sounding somewhat sheepish. Which should have been enough, Ciel thought, but no— despite that, when Sebastian next stood, he left the infernal tune playing. Wearing a sunny smile (as if that might protect him from the other's bitter frown), the servant sidled over to the couch and flopped down beside Ciel, sliding so close that the top of his thigh buried itself beneath his companion's. When Ciel made a squeaky noise of displeasure, moving as if to garner himself some personal space, Sebastian acted— grabbed his petite charge by the shoulders and hauled him onto his lap, wrapping his hands around those bony wrists.

"Sebastian, what're you—?"

"I also enjoy this song because it is fun to dance to," Sebastian decreed over Ciel's squawk of protest, all hearts and daisies and shooting stars as he began to wave Ciel's objecting fists back and forth, back and forth, in a childish bopping motion. "And because it does not possess a rhythm to which one can waltz to, even _you_ should be able to dance along with me." He beamed warmly, utterly unaffected by the arctic chill of his tamer's returning stare. "See? Why, look at you! Finally, a dance you have a natural affinity for, baby bird~ Nyan nyan nyan nya-nya-nya-nya nyaaa nyan…"

"…could you at least _not sing_?" Ciel deadpanned, but despite his best efforts to maintain his grimace his mouth was beginning to betray him; the corners of his lips had twitched ever-so-faintly upward—just the smallest fraction, but certainly enough to be noticeable. It only grew worse when Sebastian started bouncing his knees in time to his humming, and Ciel was forced along for the ride: up and down, up and down, like a temperamental tot. For a full minute, he managed to maintain his scowl, despite the quivering of his lips… But when Sebastian placed a smiling kiss upon the oversensitive nape of his neck, nuzzling against him with a wet-and-noisy blow of his cheeks, it pulled a genuine giggle from the back of the boy's rosy throat. From that point on, there was no going back. He laughed again when Sebastian began to sway them dramatically back and forth, back and forth, in time to the stupid song— still chirping merrily along to the insufferable (and yet, he had to admit, sort of charming) melody. It was annoying and obnoxious, yes, but he supposed it wasn't so bad if it made Sebastian legitimately happy… And from the way the devil was cuddling him—long arms wrapped around his middle in such a way that Ciel was hugging himself, to boot— he _did_ seem legitimately happy.

The smaller devil rolled his eyes to the ceiling and heaved a heavy sigh, but it wasn't one of annoyance, anymore.

"Have I ever told you," Ciel lightly asked, twisting his head enough to press a butterfly kiss to the bone of Sebastian's flushed cheek, "that you are a huge dork?"

"A _devil_ of a dork," Sebastian corrected cheerily, and repositioned his lord atop his lap: turning the not-boy bodily around so that they were chest to chest and nose to nose, one smile pressed into another. "And that's hardly a secret. Don't you remember the curry competition?"

"Oh, I knew _before_ the curry bun incident, I assure you," Ciel snickered, but the retort lost its sardonic bite— melting into something sweeter and bubblier— when his butler's lips skimmed over the corners of his mouth, sweeping up his temple and then dancing down his chin. With the hand that he wasn't using to keep the once-child pointedly pinned against his torso, Sebastian sought and found Ciel's pallid fist—untangling it from the front of his sweater and instead lifting it upward, resting his head against the range of fragile knuckles. After a momentary nestle, the demon lowered lengthy lashes and decorated his partner's ring finger with a kiss, tender lips warming the cool silver of the band that bedecked the digit. Ciel tried to swallow back a growing keen, but it became harder (in more ways than one) when the titillating tickle of Sebastian's gentle breath whispered over his quaking palm… his tensing wrist… his fluttering pulse point… and all the while, that other hand readjusted itself: bringing Ciel closer with a rustle of clothing and a grind of hot friction—

"Don't—even _think_ about it…" Ciel rasped, squirming through a hitch-gasp- _moan_ when Sebastian nipped at his jugular, making his knees spread and his toes curl. At the sound of his husband's rebuke, Sebastian whimpered (almost like a puppy, though Ciel would never point that out to him) and snuggled all the closer… but that only encouraged his master to whap him softly upside the head. He was then whapped somewhat _less_ softly when Ciel felt a groping hand slither down the back of his jeans. "Bad boy! I said no! Not while this ridiculous song is playing."

Until that moment busily licking his way down the valley of Ciel's chest, Sebastian lifted his half-obscured face enough to offer his master a piteous glance, bottom lip popped out and quivering. His master's response was some unique hybrid of a scoff and a wry chuckle; despite the undercurrent of amusement, however, he continued shaking his head. "This is not mood music, Sebastian. And no matter what you try, you won't be able to convince me otherwise."

A smirk—bright as a schoolboy's and just as mischievous. "Is that a challenge?" the butler queried hopefully, for a loophole was a loophole. Ciel's immediate response was to (again) roll his eyes, and he was just about to follow that up by turning his polite demand into an order… but then he looked into his servant's wide, expectant gaze—glowing the same passionate scarlet as roses and valentines, almost angelically innocent in their inane request—and he found that he simply didn't have the heart. Maybe the passing centuries had softened him more than he'd realized… or maybe he was finally learning to compromise, consciously and willingly. Though really… what did it matter, in the end?

"…fine," Ciel conceded, smiling around another diminutive sigh. But the serene softness of that smile did not last for more than a moment before it had morphed into something sultry and shameless. With a lustful little chuckle, the not-boy repositioned himself atop Sebastian's hips and settled pointedly down, tangling his free hand in silken tufts of onyx as he murmured: "Provided you promise to make me scream so loudly that I can't hear that bloody song."

A double-blink, a startled pause; for a fleeting instant, Sebastian seemed rather taken aback to realize that he'd _won_ … but his surprise was soon followed by a leer as licentious and lengthy as his master's, teeth winking and eyes flashing with laughter and love. "Yes, my lord," he huskily promised, before recapturing Ciel's mouth with his own.

And Sebastian always kept his promises.

**XXX**


	2. Jewelry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says "I love you" quite like kleptomania.

**Disclaimer:** Lolnope.

 **Author's Note:** Inspired by a post I saw on the Kuroheadcanons tumblr page. I could have gone a bunch of different directions with it, but… Well, I guess this is the one I chose. 8D; Short, sweet, and stupid, I know; I just wanted to do something for Mother's Day. ^^;

 **Warnings:** Part of the "Bicentennial" series. Takes place a few years after "666." …rather obviously. XD; OCs and stuff (thank you, Maddie, for their shells, lawlz). Allusions to commercials. Fluff? Crap editing, because I decided I wanted to write this at 4 and get it posted before midnight, lawlz.

**XXX**

**Jewelry**

**XXX**

"And just _what_ is this?"

After being so addressed, the little girl immediately began nibbling on the tip of her pudgy pointer finger. A nervous habit for most children, perhaps, but her parents had since realized she was not like most children; instead, she mused as she chewed, and chewed as she mused. For a time—as she considered her response—, her steady gaze remained locked on the swatch of floor between her spread legs, and the tiny treasures spread out upon her romper-clad thighs. The cogs in her mind turned, formulating a reply… And soon, her head was twisting, the curls of her dark pigtails dancing as she tilted her bitty chin, cinnamon eyes bright with intelligence. Bright, but already guarded in defense. Her forehead puckered, and she removed her hand from her mouth with a soft _pop_. "It's a brace-lit," she informed in her usual, quiet lisp, the steady words steeped in three years of collected knowledge. "It's for your arm."

Crouched before his literalist of a daughter, aforementioned bracelet dangling from the perch of his slender finger, Sebastian opened his mouth to berate her… But then shook his head, deciding against it. She may have _known_ what he'd meant and denied him a proper response, but she _did_ answer the question—and truthfully, at that. Evasive behavior was to be expected from three year olds; there was no need to blow this out of proportion. Rolling his eyes and gathering his patience, then, the devil tried again, flicking his wrist so that the offending piece of jewelry bounced. Its mismatched beads clattered against one another as the faceted plastic gems caught the light that streamed into the living room.

" _Asmus_ ," Sebastian gently warned, furrowing his brow as his stern stare narrowed a fraction. "Where did you find this bracelet? I know it isn't yours… I do not recall your mother or I ever purchasing you anything like it. And your aunts and uncles have not given you any presents, lately, eith—"

"It wasn't a present," Asmus cut off coolly. Her father stilled at the interruption. Good. Progress.

"… I beg your pardon?" If it wasn't a present, then…?

"It wasn't a present. It _is_ a present," the little one more fully explained, tinkering with the miscellaneous bits, pieces, and knickknacks that rested in her lap. Shiny clusters of junk, really: discarded necklace chains, hunks of fool's gold, gum wrappers that her brother had folded into cranes. Things collected and things forged; the habits of little crows. "Dat's why I gave it to you."

"…it's for me?" The elder demon's glower softened a bit around the edges, though the adhesive known as confusion kept it firmly affixed to his face. "What for? Where did you _get_ it?" He scrutinized the bracelet again—cheap gold and glass rubies, strung together on an elastic thread. Certainly a piece unlike anything else in his possession, or anything else he had ever expressed an interest in. (Usually, a prerequisite for anything he considered owning was that it had to conform to some basic guidelines of good taste. For starters, it couldn't look like it'd come from the bargain bins of Goodwill.) Blinking rapidly, he returned his attention to his eldest, still vaguely bemused. "… _why_?"

Asmus shrugged her thin shoulders, hunkering over a broken bicycle bell. It made a faint _ping_ of sound whenever she flicked its brass tab. "I got it from the park… Mama said dat we needed birdie-practice 'n so he took me 'n Toth there while you were makin' waffles at work. But this morning on the TV after Ponies it said that today was Muther's Day, and that mamas want jew'ry, and so when a girl at the park put the brace-lit down, I grabbed it wif my mouf an' flew away."

…oh.

Sebastian contemplated his daughter's confession for a long moment, his normally-schooled countenance suddenly touched by notable surprise. Mother's Day? He glanced quickly to his left, where a calendar hung on the kitchen wall. He'd never personally paid much attention to mortal holidays, but his children had inherited "Uncle Ron" and "Uncle Finny's" love for cartoons; corporate America kept all four very much "in the know" via product-pumped commercial breaks. This was not particularly _new_ information: Toth had once asked Sebastian if he owned Kay, since "every kiss begins with them" and he saw his parents exchange quite a few, and Asmus had insisted that they leave Coca Cola out for Santa on Christmas eve, swearing up and down that brand-name soda was the only thing that he (and polar bears) drank. And then, right before Valentine's Day… Well, anyway. Giving his head a second shake— to clear it, this time around— Sebastian breathed an airy chuckle and offered his daughter an exasperated smile for her efforts. "…If this is a gift for Mother's Day," he questioned in vague amusement, "why are you not giving it to your Mama?"

The child didn't miss a beat.

"Mama said he likes silver better."

"…did he," Sebastian drawled, tone as flat as the expression he wore. Asmus didn't seem to notice the change to his visage, focusing instead on stacking all of the coins she'd found this past month and collected in her pockets. Forty-one cents didn't make for much of a tower, but it _did_ make a nice sound when it toppled.

"Mhm," the fledgling returned as she played. "Also, he said that Mamas are usually the ones who have the babies, and that you did that, even though you're Daddy, so you deserved the brace-lit more. And that I can give him earrings for Fadder's Day instead."

"…" Raking his free hand through his loose forelocks, Sebastian leveled a heavy sigh— pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to sort the unnecessary details from the information that he wanted. In essence, this all seemed to come down to the fact that his daughter was a thief. "So, in honor of it being Mother's Day, you _stole_ a bracelet from some poor girl you saw in the park?" he translated, the words curt with condemnation and tone cold with disapproval. Her father's apparent anger made the young girl pause, finally turning to meet his eyes… but his virulent emotions did nothing to affect her casual expression, nor her general sense of apathy.

"Yup," Asmus thus returned, undaunted.

"You realize that stealing is _bad_ , correct?" the elder devil pressed, seemingly irritated. The bracelet jostled as he brandished it, waggling the band back and forth in his daughter's face as if it were a reprimanding finger. "It is a _naughty_ thing to do, and if anyone caught you, you would be in very _serious_ trouble. Humans put people who steal into _jail._ Do you understand that?"

"Uh-huh." She was lining her origami gum wrappers into rows, now, from largest to smallest… Though she did make certain to keep a respectful watch on her father as he continued his verbal tirade. The demonling might have been born a monster, but she hadn't been raised as an animal; there was a difference between personifying evil and having no manners. "I understand."

"Are you _sorry_ for having done something bad, then?" Sebastian persisted curtly, trying to shame his child with an aloof aura and a standoffish stare. He watched her from down the slope of his steep nose, imperious and irate. And all the while, the wielded jewelry wavered in his grasp; all the while, Asmus regarded her father dully, utterly unabashed.

"No."

"…I see." At this, Sebastian's purse-lipped scowl contorted upon his pale face— twisting into a slow, sweet grin as his glimmering eyes shone vermillion with glee. "Oh, precious girl," he then cooed, chuckling as he slipped the bracelet properly onto his wrist. His beam brightened all the more as he regarded the present, cheeks a ruddy red with delight as contentment squeezed at his chest. They grow up so fast, but _oh—_ the joy, the _bliss_ in watching them learn and mature and thrive. Asmus would one day be a first-rate devil, and it all began with lovely little moments like this. Sebastian thought be might cry, he really did… "I am so very proud of you. So proud, and so touched," he rasped in a whisper, too choked with love and gratitude to speak any more coherently. Reaching out—beads clicking, romper rustling— the demon pulled his hatchling into his waiting arms, squeezing her tight and nuzzling her temple. "Truly, this is the best gift I ever could have received."

"…"

For a long while, Asmus said nothing in response to this—merely allowed herself to be cuddled, hiding her face in the crook of Sebastian's neck when she feared she might look too pleased, or too pink. (She was, after all, her Mama's daughter. Or… um, her Father's daughter, now? Or… wait.) She frowned, pulling away enough to eye Sebastian in confusion. "…so… are you still Daddy, or are you Mama, now?" she innocently inquired, batting long eyelashes in a show of mild bewilderment.

Sebastian chortled, lightly kissing her forehead. "Are you Toth when you open his Christmas and birthday presents?"

"No…"

"Then I am still Daddy, regardless of this Mother's Day gift," he declared, smiling softly as he set his daughter back upon the ground. She returned his expression happily before returning to her toys, giggling when Sebastian bopped her on the button nose. "But speaking of your mother," he cheerfully added, still admiring his new adornment as he stood and straightened. "I had best go find him."

"Find Mama?" Although her attention had never been famed for its staying power— in fact, she had technically already returned to her games—, Asmus nevertheless managed to stop humming the Star Trek theme long enough to ask the most infamous of childhood questions: "…why?" Not that she particularly _cared_ about what Daddy wanted with Mama; it just seemed a query worth posing. Since Daddy had wasted her time with so many silly questions, himself. It was fair, and all.

Of course, in the end, it was just as well that she wasn't looking for a detailed answer, because Sebastian had no intention of giving one. Not until she was about 13 years older, anyway. (And even then, the less descriptive he had to be, the better.)

"Well, it is Mother's Day, as you so astutely pointed out," the devil beamed, all but skipping off in the direction of the bedroom. "And since he was kind enough to forfeit this bracelet for my sake, I should like to give your Mama a present of my own."

"Oh. Alright, then," Asmus returned blandly, despite being aware that her father was no longer paying her much notice. (Well, she had to have gotten her own short span from _somewhere_.) Unconcerned by the apparent lack of audience, the fledgling unfolded an aluminum swan, turned it into a delicate foil airplane, and murmured after Sebastian: "Just make sure to use your indoor voice when you give Mama all of that new Kay-stuff. Toth is napping."

**XXX**


	3. Starstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian meets George Clooney. (Depending on who you ask.)

**Disclaimer:** Nope.

 **Author's Note:** This quickly-written/poorly edited piece of derp is the result of a conversation with Maddie. So it's her fault. Again.

 **Warnings:** Part of the "Bicentennial" series, post "666"/"Jewelry." Fanboy Sebastian. OCs and George Clooney. Yeah, that's right.

**XXX**

**Starstruck**

**XXX**

**4:34 PM**

"—the movie gonna have horsies in it? 'Cause I saw a carriage and I like horsies and I think we should get one and name it Loki and—"

"— _sure_ he's not Grand-papa, Daddy? Or related t' us? 'Cause he real'y looks—"

"Hey, welcome back," an absentminded Ciel called from the study, glancing up from his paperwork when the front door slammed. He'd been able to hear his family's approach from half-way across the building, so their appearance, despite being earlier than anticipated, wasn't much of a surprise; he and Sebastian had yet to teach their four-year-olds the epoch-honored tradition of slinking like shadows, of sneaking about as silent silhouettes. (It seemed a waste of effort to attempt now, seeing as children their age were incapable of shutting up.) "How was the location shoot?"

"It was fun! We watched behind orange cones and bars and stuff. There were lots of people and trucks and cranes and video-cameras. And yelling. I liked when they yelled 'cut!' And 'new take!' I like new things. Like movie sets. I hadn't been to a movie set before," the ramble-happy Asmus reminded, as if her parents were unaware of this. Nevertheless, Ciel listened indulgently, twisting his spindly chair away from his desk so that his daughter could scamper over and clamor onto his lap, thus making their conversation more intimate. Her bitty feet— clad in glossy Mary-Janes and frilly socks—floundered back and forth as she scrambled, her pink dress wrinkling and riding up her little legs. Once she'd settled atop Mama's knee, she smoothed her skirts (like a lady), fluffed her hair (like a lady), and frowned disapprovingly— like Sebastian. It was still a bit disconcerting to see his butler's old glower grace a young girl's round face. "Daddy said he was sad that you didn't want to come, though."

At this, the once-earl snorted, slipping Sebastian's (stolen) spectacles from his nose and toying with the plastic temples between his fingers. "Did he? I'm so sure," Ciel drawled, gaze flicking over to the devil in question. Sebastian returned the glance with a smile, busily helping Toth wrestle off his green windbreaker. Once the boy was free, the younger of the twins shuffled forward to join his sister: draping himself across Ciel's other knee and chewing on his forefinger. He looked expectantly up at his mother, mutely asking for affection; Ciel offered him as much in the form of a tender pat, though his attentions were still on his husband. "You do seem the sort to get off on rubbing infidelity in someone's face."

"You _wound_ me," Sebastian retorted with an affronted gasp, a hand leaping to his chest as he tried to keep a tickled grin from overtaking his lips. In Ciel's lap, the twins exchanged bemused glances. Asmus made a show of shrugging her shoulders, thus prompting her brother to seek out a new source of knowledge.

"Mama, what's 'in-fa-dell-itty' mean?" Toth inquired, giving the earl's sleeve a demanding tug. Ciel's teasing smirk softened a fraction as he again regarded his son, fighting the urge to tell him that infidelity meant a whole world of pain for his father.

"Use context clues," he encouraged instead, watching from the corner of his eye as his old butler folded three autumn jackets over wire hangers and hung them in the closet. "What do you think it means?"

The apartment quieted for a moment as Toth considered, thoughts deep and intense enough to scrunch his button nose. As Sebastian meandered over to join his flock—pulling a stool from the island and turning it to face the rest of his family— the young boy formulated his hypothesis. "Well… Daddy seemed t' liked rubbin' his cheek 'gainst George Cwoony's face. Is that what infidelity means?"

A pause.

"…close," Ciel then returned with a thin smile, irises flashing a bloody vermillion as he glanced once more at Sebastian. Sebastian, who had nearly topped from his seat in surprise—palms out and waving wildly as if trying to bat away his child's unintended accusations.

"M-my lord, it is not at all what it sounds like!" the once-butler reassured, a touch of anxious laughter coloring his frantic words. He _must_ be nervous, to have regressed so quickly to archaic honorifics. Still, though the elder demon's cheeks had turned a heady pink, the hue was more reminiscent of flustered exasperation than it was of rosy embarrassment. It was a detail that Ciel took some comfort in. "We barely even _saw_ George Clooney, it was so packed. But he did come and mingle with the fans for a few moments, and we were lucky enough to be near the head of the throng when he did… I wanted to tell him how much I enjoy his work, but the noise was incredible, so I had to lean right up next to him to be heard. Then we shook hands and that was that. Right, loves?" He gestured encouragingly at his fledglings, as if to seek out their validation.

"George Cwoony touched my head," Toth announced cheerfully— in lieu of a more relevant or customary confirmatory phrase—, pointing to his crown as if to indicate where the star had set his hallowed hand.

"So we shall never wash your hair again," Sebastian sweetly decreed, chuckling when Ciel rolled his eyes. "I am kidding," he then tacked on, noticing how his child's eyes had lit up in delight at the prospect. The sunny beam immediately grew cloudy; Toth groused against his mother's thigh, bitter at his father for having gotten his hopes up. "In any case, it was an exciting and memorable outing. That having been said, I'm off to prepare supper. Then perhaps we can all watch _Fantastic Mr. Fox_ to commemorate the day."

"Sounds like a plan," Ciel agreed, tone light and expression innocent as his husband stood and bowed. Once the former servant had wandered off to the kitchen, however, his expression fell flat; he leveled his children a somber stare, brow arching, as he blandly demanded: "…so what really happened?"

The twins didn't miss a beat.

"Daddy shrieked like a little girl who'd eaten a helium bal'oon and said a bunch of crazy stuff too fast for anyone t' hear—I think somthin' 'bout havin' a wedding picture with George Cwoony at a wax museum? Then he fainted," a solemn Asmus pronounced, all while her brother nodded, soberly confirming her story. "Right when George Cwoony was walkin' by. So Toth started cryin' to get his attention and I asked if I could use his cell phone t' call 911. And then George Cwoony helped us prop Daddy up against a fire hydrant after a doggy had peed on it and he called 911 for us, and we told him that he looks a lot like our Grand-papa and you say Daddy has a com-plex 'cause of it. I dunno if he liked that much, but he still gave us the French fries from his lunch while we waited for th' ambulance. Then he went back to work and Daddy woke up and we ran away before the ambulance could show up 'cause Daddy didn't wanna pay for it, and he told us he'd buy us ice cream if we promised never t' tell you any of that happened."

"…" Ciel lifted an eyebrow, momentarily startled by this deluge of potential blackmail— er, by this flood of information. A few seconds later, however, and the implications of his twins' tale began to settle in his mind. Biting his bottom lip in a fruitless attempt to keep from grinning, the nobleman coughed delicately and murmured: "…and yet, here you are. Telling me everything. You two _do_ know that devils are not allowed to lie, yes?"

"Yeah, well. He bought us frozen yogurt," Toth helpfully explained. "Not ice cream."

"Ah." That made it okay, then. Indeed, they _were_ Sebastian's children— deviant little creatures already adapt at sniffing out loopholes. The once-earl made a mental note of this, lest he later fall into such a trap, himself. But for now… Well. Winking at his precious babies, Ciel cleared his throat, trying to rid his voice of snickers before he next spoke.

"Hey, Sebastian," the demonling then called, cupping a hand to the side of his face so as to be properly heard in the kitchen. He waited until he was answered by a distracted "hm?" prompting him to continue. In his lap, the children giggled and sniggered, eyes bright with delight as their mother's smirk contorted, turning wolfish. "When you say that the noise was incredible, were you referring to the crowd… Or to the noises that came out of your mouth?"

A plate shattered; the sound of it echoed with the same crystalline clarity as the family's screeches of laughter. "What th—? You little imps— you _promised_!" Sebastian whined over the others' animated amusement, sticking his head around the corner to flash them all a dour pout. When his scowl did nothing but exacerbate their shrieks, he narrowed his eyes, growled, and stormed off shouting: "Oh— that's it! I'm making the lot of you sprouts and raw carrots and spam for supper!"

"S'okay," Asmus calmly rejoined, her wicked sneer straining for her ears. "We're still full from fries and yogurt."

"What? _Rgh_! Well, then— more for Ciel!"

"Still totally worth it," Ciel cackled, unrepentant, as he open his cell phone to text Uriel. Certainly the angel would find this little turn of events equally entertaining, considering his past with Sebastian. Hell, he'd likely want to swing by and poke fun at his old boyfriend personally. And maybe—if he picked up some take-out on his way over—Ciel would promise not to lock him in the bathroom, this time.

Or maybe he'd take a leaf out of his kids' book and do it anyway.

**XXX**


	4. Endear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...what did you call me?" A story about endearments. SebaCiel.

**Disclaimer:** LOLNOPE.

 **Author’s Note:** I’ve been getting Bicentennial-themed headcanons in my tumblr ask-box every so often; if one amuses me particularly, I’ll write a ficlet about it. Here’s one I did tonight. :3 (In about 10 minutes, so be gentle, lawlz. XD; ) Thanks anon, for your submission! I love hearing about what you guys thing, so if you feel so inclined, please keep them coming! :’D

 **Submission:** I saw your reply to someone about nicknames and it made me wonder something. I haven't read all of the Bicentennial fics yet so sorry if I'm asking something that's alredy in there but I know Sebastian calls Ciel "Baby Bird", but does Ciel ever give Sebastian a nickname, like when it's just the two of them? Or if he HAD to give him a petname, what would it be? And does Sebastian like it?

 **Warnings:** Part of the “Bicentennial” series—doesn’t particularly matter where. (Though in my head, it takes place after the babies are born.) XD SebaCiel.

  
**XXX**   


  
**Endear**   


  
**XXX**   


“…” Notably started, Sebastian pulls away from his keening master in order to gawk dazedly down at him, the concern in his expression suggesting that the latter had just grown an extra head, or perhaps sprouted a mess of purple pustules. “ _What_ did you just call me?”

Trapped beneath his husband by strong arms and a bemused gaze, Ciel’s brilliant blush melts from pink to scarlet, aroused to horrified. “I… um…” He clears his throat awkwardly. He already felt like a right fool for having said anything at all; this reaction isn’t helping. “‘Darling’…?” 

“…” Sebastian slowly licks his lips, trying very hard to suppress a shudder. That just wasn’t… no. Not right. Not right at all. “Um… Ciel,” he then begins warily, offering his lover an empathetic, albeit still rather amused smile, “are— are you trying to be… romantic, perhaps…?” 

“Oh, shut _up!_ ” the once-earl snaps— sounding much more like himself— as he glances to the far left and allows his cheeks to glow as vibrantly as their demonic eyes. “I just… Well, you have endearments for me… Grelle has pet names for everyone… Your parents have nicknames for you— Heaven help us, even Uriel does! But… even after all this time, I… don’t. I don’t have anything special to call you, I mean.” 

Looking rather guilty, Ciel turns his attention back upon his husband, reaching out to caress his temple. Still faintly baffled, Sebastian nevertheless looks touched as he slowly puts the pieces of his little one’s puzzling behavior together. “Don’t you want a special name of your own? Something… something I and I alone can use when speaking to you?” 

At this, Sebastian smiles, his crimson eyes as warm as embers— shimmering with all manner of love and tenderness. “Baby bird,” he then whispers, dipping low to brush affectionate lips against Ciel’s ear— as if to make quite sure he hears and understands what he is about to say, “you have already given me the best and only names I could ever wish to have. Sebastian— the name of your first, and most loyal friend— and Phantomhive, the name of your family, of which I am now a part. Through both of these names, you have shaped me, blessed me, and honored me in more ways than I could have ever thought possible… Why would I wish to be called by anything other than that?” 

“…I—” Ciel hesitates, swallows. Then he grins, features rosy with delight and gratification as he leans up to press a kiss to his beloved’s mouth—

“Besides,” Sebastian then tacks on in a much lighter tone, dodging Ciel’s embrace just long enough to smirk and chuckle, “‘Darling’ makes me think of Grelle, and I really don’t want her on my mind right now. If you know what I mea— _omph!_ “ 

“Pft.” Ciel snorts, mercilessly smacking his husband across the face with a pillow for ruining such a sweet moment with his stupidity. “Idiot.”

That endearment, at least, feels natural.

  


**XXX**  



	5. How I Met Your Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids, today you’re going to hear an amazing story. The story of how your father met your mother. The PG-version. Because you lot are three. And if your parents’ story were to be turned into a television series by a predominant animation studio, it would likely be rated 14+. At least. So actually, this isn’t really going to resemble the story of how your parents met at all. Oh well.

**Disclaimer:** LOLNOPE. I don't even own the title, this time around. XD; (Oh, and KFA Jesus was a joke borrowed from A:TLA Abridged. :3)

 **Author's Note:** My apologies for the severe lack of updates, lately. I've been trying to focus more on original work… in addition to _actual_ work, lawlz. But sometimes, you just gonna write Bicentennial derp, you know? Anyway, this piece was inspired by a "Bi headcanon" submitted anonymously to my tumblr. I wrote a little ficlet for it, and then Hannah suggested I expand it a bit. So here we go~

 **The submitted headcanon:** "Sebastian and Ciel are going to have one hell of a hard time explaining to their kids how mama and papa got together. And why all their 'friends' are equally weird."

(And for fun and my friend Caitlin: **"** Ciel has seen and has bought and constantly rewatches every single Disney musical ever, despite his vehement protests to the contrary.")

 **Warnings:** Derrrrrrp. SebaCiel, Will/Grell, OCs. Written and edited fast, so probably awful, overall. 8D Toddler-speak. Part of the "Bicentennial" series; takes place about three years after "666."

**XXX**

**How I Met Your Mother**

**XXX**

**9:34 AM**

Like most queries from toddlers, this one had come out of absolutely nowhere. Almost like a burp, it was just sort of blurted out by their daughter, loud and without warning. (Though, thankfully, with less stink.)

"Dada? Mama?" In an attempt to catch her parents' attention, Asmus had tipped her head so far back that she'd become a victim of gravity, flopped over, and then giggled, her pearly grin glistening in the reflected light of the television. The little one's Barbie Princess movie had just come to an end, and now she was looking for other stories to entertain her. To that end… "How'jyou met Mama?" the precocious child inquired, squirming until she managed to roll onto her romper-clad belly. Beside her, cross-legged and hunched, Toth blinked in a show of similar curiosity before twisting to look up at his parents, too.

Seated side by side on the leather couch, the devils in question exchanged bemused glances.

"Uh…" Ciel cleared his throat, looking a bit thrown by his offspring's sudden interest. He hesitated, gnawing his bottom lip. It wasn't that he was _ashamed_ of how he and his husband had first met—their encounter had been nothing to be _ashamed_ about—but it still seemed a rather dark and macabre story to be sharing with one's three-year-olds. And demons though they may be, saying something along the lines of "Mama was kidnapped, raped, and seconds away from being brutally murdered when he accidentally summoned the necessary hatred to call forth a devil from the cursed pits of Hell in order to extract vengeance on his behalf" would likely still give the children nightmares. Not to mention it would call forth a barrage of other, even less appropriate questions. (Like what "rape" meant, and was it edible.)

Apparently having realized all of this himself, Sebastian settled with a far less controversial answer. "A long, long, long time ago, Daddy was Mama's servant," he explained, smiling indulgently at his baby girl. "That means Mama told me what to do, and I was, shall we say, paid to do it for him." Not that _that_ had particularly changed, over the years… "So we met when I was working unde—um, _for_ him."

Ciel shot his husband an exasperated glare. Sebastian responded with a sheepish shrug; he couldn't help that he was used to speaking in entandre and taunt. That was just his nature. Besides, the twins hadn't noticed: like an Animaniacs' cartoon, the joke had flown right over their heads. Nevertheless, the fledglings' expressions grew dreamy as they considered their father's words, poorly chosen or otherwise; Toth began noshing on his thumb in intense thought.

"Serbent -n- mawsser?" Asmus then attempted to echo, blinking wide, vermilion eyes up at her parents. They responded to her prompting with a nod, wondering if Sebastian's answer had really meant anything to them. But rather than focus on the somewhat disturbing truth behind mother and father's initial relationship, the young girl had become markedly distracted… Already, a propensity for perfection (inherited from her father) had manifested as a notable character trait; her nose scrunched upon realizing she hadn't been able to say either of those words correctly, and likely would not be able to until all of her teeth came in. Clever thing she was, Asmus almost-instantly came up with a way to remedy this problem.

"S-n-M!" she cooed, beaming. S would stand for "servant," and M for "master." Like in Sesame Street, when they had words and letters of the day. (Hey, Mama and Dada were almost like Big Bird! They were big and sometimes birds and sometimes people who were pretending to be birds. Her grin widened at this deep, albeit irrelevant insight.) Jabbing her bitty pointer finger at each parent in turn—and looking very pleased with herself as she did so—Asmus cheerfully announced: "Mama was an M and Dada an S!"

"Mama -n- Dada were inta S-n-M," Toth sang in kind, giggling sweetly as he stuck half of his hand into his mouth and continued chewing. "Like da song on da radio Mama sings t'when Dada's not der, and Dada sings t'when Mama's not der! S-S-S-S… EM-EM-EM."

…Rihanna. Their son was quoting Rihanna in relation to their romantic history.

"…all of this is somehow your fault, Sebastian," Ciel flatly intoned, features dull with disbelief. That was it. They were keeping the Barney playlist on constant repeat until the twins were at least 18.

"I… um…" Visibly taken aback by just how quickly this entire exchange had become one very poor excuse for a sex joke, Sebastian gawped, otherwise frozen. Beside him, Ciel had turned red, then white, then had hung his head to hide his face all together, torn between laughing and crying. Or doing both. "… well, they aren't exactly _wrong_ ," the elder of the two then admitted, hedged but honest. (What choice did he have? He couldn't lie.) "The actual S&M part simply came a few decades lat—"

" _SEBASTIAN!"_

**11:27 AM**

"—n den Mama smack-ed Dada an' called him a i'diot n' den we gots on clothes n' den Mama gots all glare-y n' told Dada t' take-ed us to Aunt Gwelle's," Asmus explained through mouthfuls of PB&J, swinging her feet merrily atop her booster seat. To her left, her cousin Angel was elegantly picking crusts off of her own sandwich; to her right, Toth was guzzling chocolate milk from a blue plastic sippy-cup. Across the table, their "Aunt Gwelle" was listening attentively, delicately plucking the discarded bits of bread from her daughter's plate and popping each morsel into her smirking mouth. Another typical lunch at the Spears' residence.

"That does sound like quite the morning," the redhead agreed with a chuckle, wiping the crumbs on her fingers onto a cerise napkin. "Sebastian-darling has this amazing ability where he always makes things worse, even when he doesn't mean to. Doesn't he, Willie?" She tossed a glance backwards, towards her stoic-faced husband, who was currently concentrating far-more-intensely than was either necessary or, arguably, healthy, on the chocolate chip cookies he was making. (Rather, the cookies he was carefully adding chocolate chips to: pressing five little chunks of chocolate into each doughy ball on the tin, precise and perfect and uniform. Will was, as always, determined to bring order to chaos whenever he could… however rare the opportunity was in his home.) "And the brat just exacerbates the problem by making those issues even more apparent."

Will, ever the conversationalist, grunted.

"Ah well," Grelle continued with an idle toss of her hair, her bubbly amusement eliciting peanut-butter-smeared looks of perplexity from the twins. "That was the story they went with, so there's no helping it now."

The story they _went_ with?

"Is der a differ-runt story?" Thrown for a bit of a loop by the idea, Asmus licked a blob of strawberry jam from her nose (a trick that her Uncle Claude had taught her) and stared keenly at her babysitter, unconvinced but inquisitive. "But… Dada don't lie."

"Oh, Sebastian-darling _didn't_ lie, sweetheart," Grelle reassured, waving her scarlet-tipped fingers in a gesture that was both dismissive and reassuring. "No, no, no, he and your Mama were master and servant, it's true. But there's more to it than that. Let's see," she added in afterthought, tapping her chin as she glanced towards the ceiling, where the apple-imbued wallpaper became a simple wash of burgundy. "If you two had asked _me_ how your parents had met, I would have told you that it was really much simpler. It was an arrangement of _passion_ , of primal urges and needs. You see, your mama was born a human, and human beings have a thing called a soul—"

"We k'no wat souls be!" Toth interrupted, pausing in his drink-suckling long enough to speak up. Just so, you know, people realized that he was paying attention. "Dey're fer eatin'." But… wait. If that was true, then that meant—

"Den Dada wanted ta _eat_ Mama?" Asmus paraphrased, sounding mildly distressed. _Eat_ Mama? Daddy ate things like ice cream and peas and braunschweiger and waffles. He didn't eat devils. He'd never tried to serve _Mama_ for supper, for badness' sake, and Daddy had attempted to make them eat all sorts of weird things in the past. Like brussel sprouts. And fried alligator. And starfruits. But for as little sense as such a claim made, Uncle William, at least, was downright dogged in insisting that it was true.

"I'm fairly certain that Sebastian Phantomhive continues to desire your mother, and that he eats him with gusto. Quite frequently. Sometimes with a cob of corn 'on the side,' from what I recall of our joint vacation to the Corn Palace," Will mumbled under his breath, speaking without fully realizing he'd done so. He was rather distracted by his own plight, at the moment; he was one chip short, and for some reason, frantically shaking the empty plastic bag was not producing a final chocolate from thin air. Funny that.

"William!" Grelle gasped, offended on the children's behalf. (Though again, there was a soft _woosh_ ing sound as their uncle's implications soared right over their heads.) "Watch your mouth—! Besides, I don't think it was so much a cob of corn ' _on_ the side' as it was a cob of corn ' _in_ side' and—no, what am I saying?" This was pretty much the epitome of 'not the time!' Horrified by her own thoughtlessness, the redhead whipped around to again regard the twins, scrutinizing their round faces as if that might allow her to gauge just how much of their innocence she had destroyed with that quip. But rather than focus on Grelle's slights against their parents' non-existent virtue, Asmus and Toth were still busily trying to wrap their brains around the big picture that their caretakers had proposed.

"So… Dada meet-ed Mama and wanted ta eats him so he turned inta a S?" the young demon girl piped over her floundering aunt, still a touch baffled. Grelle, in turn, choked on a bit of sandwich.

"Sounds about right," William muttered, ultimately deciding to chuck his last, deformed cookie into the trash… and immediately after found a lone chip hiding beside his stirring-spoon. His wrath (gnashing teeth, crimson face, flailing arms) was incredible, albeit silent and somewhat pathetic. Once she'd finished pounding on her chest, Grelle shot her husband a look that seemed to suggest he deserved this fate for being so rude. (Recognizing hypocrisy was not one of Grelle's natural talents.)

"Your father," the redhead then decreed loudly, as if half-screaming would somehow override everything that had been said over the past few minutes, "met your mother when he was a human, and took a liking to him. So they made a Con—they made a _promise_ to work together."

"…oh." Asmus considered this, remembering all of the lessons about working together she'd learned from early morning television programming. From what she could tell, teamwork was a desirable, commendable sort of thing… and it always seemed to solve whatever problems the muppets stumbled across. "So… Mama n' Dada wurked togefer ta make Mama a demun?" That made sense enough. And after that, she knew the rest: they got Georgina and got married and Georgina had George and Georgia and Mama and Daddy had her and her brother. The end.

"Actually, 'Ba and Cici worked together to get rid of _bad people_ ," Angel corrected her cousin amiably, though she did look a little pleased to realize that she knew something about her original foster parents that the twins didn't. Pride wasn't a wholly attractive look on one of her ilk, perhaps, but she was more of a 6-year-old then she was a majestic celestial being. And she _was_ Grelle's daughter. So it was only natural, honestly. "And 'Ba just did it for the eats, at first. Cici becomin' a devil was an accident."

" _Angie!"_ Utterly exasperated now, Grelle clapped a palm to her forehead and dragged her hand roughly down the length of her face. Did she need to call Asmodeus and check to see if Hell had frozen over? Because there was no other way to explain how she had suddenly become the one with the _most_ tact in the Spears' family.

Meanwhile, the twins had cocked their heads in tandem, Toth burping as he finished his milk and considered Angel's assertion. An accident? Mama becoming a demon was like when they would wet the bed, or spill Froot Loops on the floor, or that time they got ahold of a pair of scissors and hacked Daddy's hair off while he was sleeping? (Well, okay, maybe that last one wasn't _totally_ an accident…)

"Dada… didn' wan' Mama t' be a demun?" Asmus surmised with a scowl, little brow furrowing and button nose scrunching as this revelation occurred to her. That… didn't seem very nice. To deny Mama something like that. To want Mama to stay a weak mortal, destined to die. Daddy didn't want Mama to die, did he? Daddy was _always_ happy to see Mama, to have him around. Something didn't seem right about all of this…

"W-well, maybe not at first—but that changed fast!" Grelle cut in, smiling a somewhat frantic smile. "They were angry at each other for a couple of decades, yes, and Sebastian-darling might have been a teensy-weensy-itty-bitty-bit resentful, initially, but that changed too as time went on. Really, now they're very happy and very _grateful_ that the Trancy family—"

"Screwed everything and everyone sideways."

Botched baking always made for a particularly pissy William.

"Will, I swear to _God_ —!"

"…Un'cle Cwaude n' Aunt Nana?" With a clandestine whisper, Asmus and her brother turned to exchange furtive glances, unnoticed by anyone but Angel. (Who was too busy nibbling on her orange slices to care much about anything else.) Grelle, in the meantime, was fuming at her insensitive, pouting husband… Her insensitive, pouting, _forgetful_ husband, who had been so busy cursing at the runaway chocolate chip on the countertop that it had completely slipped his mind to set a timer, and his cookies burnt to a crisp. Then they burst into flames. Then—just for good measure— the oven caught fire, providing a bit of entertainment for the nonchalant kids, in addition to Grelle's usual humorous caterwauling.

**1:46 PM**

" _How Ciel Phantomhive became a demon?_ "

The voice cracked a bit, as voices tend to do when thrown across the Atlantic. Even still—and even over the phone— Toth and Asmus could practically see their uncle readjust his glasses, a small smirk playing across his tanned features. In the background, Uncle Luka and Uncle Alois were screaming expletives at some sort of video game.

" _Well, your father and I did not always get along. He was a prick when we were growing up—always stealing my toys and books without telling me. Once, he nipped my Kung-Fu Action Jesus figurine and dressed it up in Super Awesome Ninja Spy Mary Magdalene's Covert Mission— Last Supper: The Second Course's robe set. You just don't_ do _that. You don't put Kung-Fu Action Jesus in Super Awesome Ninja Spy Mary Magdalene's Covert Mission— Last Supper: The Second Course's robe set! Jesus didn't wear_ girl _robes!_ " Claude huffed, his anger still ridiculous—er, obvious—after so many millennia. The _squeak_ of his grinding teeth was worse than the white static of long-distance; Asmus and Toth frowned nervously at one another, wondering if maybe this hadn't been as dire an emergency as they'd first believed… Bearing in mind that an "emergency" was the only time that Sebastian and Ciel advised the twins to call the Trancys' on their own. But after a few deep breaths (and a suspicious sounding _crack,_ like that of a table being karate-chopped in half), the devil calmed enough to continue on in a semi-rational manner.

"… _anyway. I suppose I was a trifle… bitter… after growing up with someone like that. So when I realized how much Sebastian loved your mother, I tried to steal him and break him, like Sebastian had done to so many of my toys. But my plans were ultimately foiled by Alois and Hannah and Luka, who decided that—!_ "

" _HEY! Hey, are you talking to the terrible twosome? Hiiiiiii, Azzy! Hi, Toto! Uncle Alois loves you!_ " sang a new voice, interrupting the old with an _oomph_ and a noise like an elbow ramming into someone's gut with the strength of a bowling ball. " _Haha, Luka says hey there, too! And so does Undie—he's here visiting._ _Right, you ol' bag of bones?"_

There was a familiar "heeheehee" in the background, along with an eerily elongated "hellooooooo, moppets~"

" _So, you guys talking to Claude about Ciel's past, or am I just making that up?_ " Alois questioned jauntily, ever the personified ray of (cancer-giving) sunshine and (pollen-laden) roses. " _Why the sudden curiosity?_ "

 _Well_.

"Mama n' Dada said dey were doin' S-n-M but Aunt Gwelle says Dada just wanted 't eat Mama up and den Angel says Mama bein' a demon was an acci'dent, like me and Toth, 'n den der was a fire n' we're in da closet," Asmus explained in one very long breath, sounding emotionally exhausted as she let loose this deluge of information. "And den Aunt Gwelle says dat Mama n' Dada are happy dat you guys made dat acc'ident."

"So we wan'ed ta hear whut you did," Toth finished coolly, ever the level-headed (and quieter) of the two.

" _Oh… um._ " Sounding understandably taken aback by the children's rather awkwardly phrased version of events that had occurred over the past 200 years, Alois waffled for a moment… but finally cleared his throat with a laugh. For as convoluted as the question had been, it was easy enough to answer. Once he'd figured out what it was, anyway. " _You wanna know how Ciel became a devil, then? I guess the short version of the story is that Claude lied to me about some stuff, so I was kinda pissed—oh, pardon, I shouldn't use language like that, huh? Okay, I was kinda ticked— better, right?—_ _that everyone loved Ciel, and no one loved me, but mostly demons loved Ciel because he was tasty, so Hannah—who did love me— did me a favor and turned Ciel into a demon so no one would eat-slash-love him. But I guess I was wrong on at least one count, huh? Sebastian still loved him, and that's fabulous. Because now I have a cute niece and nephew to play with, right? And now Claude and I are all right, so Ciel and I are total BFFs. With that last F standing for five-eva. Dat mean longer den four-eva,"_ the blonde concluded with a trill, sounding very pleased with his own story (and joke) telling abilities. Undoubtedly _that_ had cleared everything up for the pair.

On the other side of the world, Asmus and Toth were gaping at one another, entirely nonplussed. This just wasn't working.

"…Un'cle 'Lois?"

" _Yeah?_ "

"Can we talk t' Undies?"

" _Huh? Oh, sure. Here he is~_ "

There was the crackling sound of the phone changing hands; in the background, the fuzzy noises of the boisterous Trancy household were veiled by hisses and pops—Hannah singing while she cooked, the boys returning to their game, Claude muttering about his dolls… And then there was the click of audio refocusing, and a wheezy grunt of greeting.

"Help," the twins decreed flatly, not even giving pause for polite salutations. They had sort of reached the end of their rope, as it were. These tales—they were just too contradictory, strange, and unfathomable. Not to mention too _much_. "We dun _get_ it!"

"E'reyone makes Mama n' Dada hate eacho'der in der stories. Dey're sad. But Mama and Dada _aren't_ sad," Asmus protested, her mounting vexation peaking and bringing her close to tears. She smacked her little fists against the carpeted floor, directly beside the phone that they had switched onto speaker. Grelle had thought it best to relocate to Sebastian's apartment while her husband dealt with the aftermath of the kitchen fire; the twins were now hidden in the hallway's linen cupboard, temporarily avoiding their aunt and cousin. It was just as well—they did so hate to let others see them cry. "I dunget it! I dunlike it!"

For a long moment, the Undertaker indulged the children in their whining and snuffling, listening wordlessly as they stamped their wee feet and pounded their hands – waiting for the energy of frustration to bleed out of them. When they finally calmed to his satisfaction, the mortician allowed himself a chortle, raspy and low.

" _Azzy, Toto,"_ he then began blithely, forever the least fazed of their immortal troupe, " _do you remember when I last came to visit and we watched Beauty and the Beast?_ "

"Yeah… You gots all tangle'd up in da VHS' tape and look'ed like a mummy, and den Mama yelled at you 'cause dat was his original copy of da movie and it was a coll'ekt-ta-bull, and den we went and had ta go to da store an' buy a DVD and some Heavn'ly Hash ice cweam to make Mama not kill you."

"… _all true, eheehee, but not the point I was trying to make_ ," Undertaker informed Asmus lightly, though he did—as always— sound undeniably amused. " _I meant the movie itself, poppets. Do you recall, eh? Belle and the Beast didn't like each other at first, either. But the more time they spent together, the more they cared about each other. And even though it began as a curse cast by others, and they were sorta tossed together by fate and magic, eventually, they were able to live happily ever after. As the same species, even. That's the bare bones of it—that's the sort of story your mum and dad have. See? It's not so sad, right?"_ the reaper prompted gently, his creaky voice unusually soothing as he offered the twins his comfort. " _Just because a story don't start happy, don't mean it's not a happy story. So I wouldn't worry your pretty lil' heads about it."_

Ah, finally. Sense. When phrased that way, it all came together; their parents' plight was sort of like the Barbie movie they'd watched, earlier. It had bad stuff happen in it, too, because that made it interesting to watch… but all of Barbie's problems worked out by the end. The same was true with Mama and Daddy. Understanding now, Toth nodded once, mutely showing his agreement with the Undertaker's assessment. As he did so, he placed his hand on his sister's head and gave it a pat, allowing her a moment to swallow back the rest of her tears and formulate a response for them both.

"…'Kay," Asmus finally murmured, smiling as she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. Like her brother, she might not have been able to fully understand the others' explanations, but this she could work out. No wonder Mama always used to go to the Undertaker for information—he was the best at explaining things. "Thanks, Undies…"

" _You're welcome_ , _my pets,_ " the shinigami returned, before breaking into cackles. Somewhere behind him, Claude was screeching: " _Ow, Hannah, stop hitting m—! Ow! No, I_ don'tknow _who broke the coffee table, I— ouch! Ow! Argh!_ GOD DAMMIT, _KUNG-FU ACTION JESUS AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS, SEBASTIAN!_ "

**8:29 PM**

"Mama?"

"Yes? What is it, baby?"

It was nearly bedtime, now, and the twins—bundled up in their matching footie pajamas— were enjoying one last story with their mother before the Sandman spirited them away. As per usual, the three had piled into the rocking chair that had been set before the window and between the twins' cribs; Asmus and Toth curled up against Ciel's chest as he lazily pushed them back and forth, back and forth, and read to them from a book about a very hungry caterpillar.

The rest of the day had passed in a blur. Snacks, a nap, being woken from said nap by Daddy yelling at Uncle Ronald to get off of the counter— ("Were you raised in a _barn?_ You animal!" "Hey, judge not lest ye be judged, said Jesus." "Funny, he _was_ raised in a barn, and I know for a _fact_ that he had better manners than you! …and what do you _mean_ you set your house on fire making cookies, Grelle?")— a great big family supper (since everyone was already there), a bubble bath, an episode of "My Little Pony" with Uncle Finny and Uncle Ron (well, maybe two. And just one more, one last one)… now bed. Their latter uncles had gone mere minutes earlier, leaving as quietly as they had arrived— appearing almost instantaneously outside of the closet that the twins had been hiding in; upon sneaking out, they'd almost-literally run into the odd couple. After asking the kids what they'd been up to (and making a crack about apples not falling far from trees, which neither fledgling understood, since they thought they'd been talking about being in closets, not trees), Ronald and Finny had offered their two cents to the bank that was the Undertaker's priceless wisdom.

"I used to be a servant for your Mama, too," Finny had happily informed the tots, picking them up with the same ease as one would a feather. "And though Mr. Sebastian might deny it, I don't think there was ever a day he _didn't_ love the young master, in some way."

Ron didn't have much to add to that, saying he hadn't really had a chance to get to know the couple until they'd reconnected with Grelle and Will at their wedding, and that had been ages after the fact. That said, "he always seemed pretty attached to your mum, even for a demon."

It occurred to the twins then that telling their parents about their continued prying into this matter probably wouldn't be wise. Not so much because Mama and Daddy would get mad at the others for saying anything, but because what the others had to say didn't matter, in the long run. Ron had been the one to make them realize that— realize that nobody actually knew the _real_ Sebastian and Cieluntil many years after the fact. Back in the day, they'd all been playing different roles… in front of each other, and in front of the rest of the world. Nobody truly knew how past-Sebastian and past-Ciel acted behind closed doors besides, well, Sebastian and Ciel… and if they said that they were master and servant, and that they were happy, and that they fell in love, bought a cat, got married, witnessed kittens, and then had Asmus and Toth, well—that was the only version of the story worth believing, as far as the twins were concerned.

Though, that having been said, the Undertaker was right, too. Beauty and the Beast, magic, "happily ever after"s… The Phantomhives' story might not have initially begun as a traditional fairytale, but it had certainly ended as such… So really, what more could anyone ask for?

Asmus smiled sleepily up at Ciel, thumb in her mouth as she nestled closer into his warmth. "Mama's my fav'rite Disney pwincess…"

"Mine too," Toth added with a yawn, heavy lids drooping over sleepy eyes. He was already half-gone, his sister not-far behind.

"…?" Ciel, in turn, offered both of his children bewildered glances, looking from one slumbering toddler to the next. Where had _that_ come from…? Blushing a bit—perhaps he was letting his Disney movie obsession run a bit too rampant, as of late—, he pressed adoring kisses to their pale foreheads and deposited the pair into their cribs, off to relate to Sebastian their babies' odd remarks.

**7:41 AM**

"Tell! Tell! Tell! Tell!" the twins chanted, pounding exuberantly on the bathroom door behind which their godfather had been locked. As per usual. ("It will make it difficult for him to babysit from in there," Daddy had said as he and Mama had ducked out of the apartment. But Mama had just snorted, saying he knew how to pick the lock. This was just how he and Uriel showed affection for each other, nowadays.)

"I do not think you two are truly ready for such a story," the angel returned easily, the smile of a patient saint upon his handsome face. Like the admirably proper being he was, Uriel sat primly atop the toilet lid, listening in amusement as the pair slapped their open palms against the painted wood, almost using enough force to chip it. "If a predominant animation studio were to make your parents' tale into a television series, it would be rated at least 14+… Perhaps even 17+, in a later season. And you lot are not even 3+."

"But e'eryone _else_ told-ed us!" Asmus whined, careening her body against the barrier. _Thud. Thud. Thud._

"Yeah!" Toth echoed, mimicking his sister. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ "E'eryone _else_ did, Uri!"

"Yes, well, if everyone else jumped off of a bridge—" …actually, that didn't work so well here, taking into consideration that the twins and practically everyone else they knew had the capacity for flight. So never mind that rebuttal. But still, no. He refused to be pressured. Understandable, really; everyone else might have spilled, but not everyone else's stories began with 'I was your mother's guardian angel, and it was my job to make sure that he very nearly got disemboweled, and his intestines wrapped around his neck like a bow before being gifted to Satan.' (Not that Satan was really into such things. He was more about Dippin' Dots and ping-pong than he was sacrificed prepubecents. "Too much mess," he'd said. "And grit." But anyway.)

"I'll tell you when you're older," Uriel promised in way of pacification, standing with a rustled hush of gold-imbued robes. "But for now, if you let me out of here, I will make you muffins and we can play Pretty Pretty Princess."

_Thud. Thud. Thu—_

"…Pwetty Pwetty Pwincess?"

The door flew open with a _bang_.

And the twins didn't ask again 'til they were 17+.

**XXX**


	6. Radio Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has a new favorite song.

**Disclaimer:** Nope~

 **Author's Note:** Another headcanon from an anon. :3 Written and edited in like 10 minutes… and just for the smiles. XD

**Submitted Headcanon:** _Bi headcannon in which Sebastian obsesses with the song Call Me Maybe by Carley Rae Jensen, which in turn annoys Ciel because Ciel can't understand why Sebastian would like the song since it says "Hey I just met you". As Sebastian sings the song to himself Ciel snaps and gives a speech about how no, Sebastian didn't just meet him, they met 200 years ago!_

**Warnings:** Fluff. SebaCiel. Part of the "Bicentennial" series, takes place after "666."

**XXX**

**Radio Romance**

**XXX**

" _Hey, I just met you_ ~"

"Sebastian. Sebastian, no."

" _And this is crazy!_ "

"Sebastian, please. _Every time_ this song comes on the radio, you— _eep!_ "

" _But here's my number!_ " Sebastian sang, abandoning his station in front of the stove in favor of sweeping Ciel into a playful embrace. The younger demon, for his part, snapped his husband with a glare— all but hanging from his once-butler's arms as he was spun around the kitchen, serenaded and made to dance some strange mutation of the waltz. " _So call me, maybe!_ "

"Sebastian, this song is asinine," Ciel droned, trying to look disapproving as Sebastian laughed and grinned all the more widely, twirling them around the kitchen table. As their parents spun past their high-chairs, the 6-month old twins gurgled with approval— clapping their hands and cooing along. His family's obvious amusement was making it difficult to stay pouty, but Ciel did his best, anyway. (He had a reputation, after all.) "As happy as I am that you've gotten over your obsession with the Nyan Cat song, this one is hardly better," he protested weakly, absolutely _refusing_ to giggle when Sebastian nestled close and sang directly into his master's overly-sensitive ear, eliciting a squirm from him. "I— I don't understand why you insist on this charade every time this plays on the radio! I did not trade my soul for a _wish_ — revenge is different—, or pennies and dimes for any sort of sexual favors… We did _not_ just meet, neither of us gave out a number, and the only thing I 'called' was your name—! Ah!"

Ciel's rant was silenced by a well-timed dip— and a rather deep kiss— both of which filled the instrumental break quite nicely. When Sebastian pulled them back upright (Asmus and Toth shrieking happily all the while), he beamed, rosy eyes as soft as the breathless blush on his charge's flustered face.

" _Before you came into my life I missed you so bad, I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad_ ," Sebastian hummed, voice silken and sweet as he peppered a few more kisses against Ciel's forehead and temple. " _Before you came into my life I missed you so bad, and you should know that_ …"

…ah.

Notably pink now, Ciel glanced demurely away as the song came to an end, hoping Sebastian didn't notice the way his hands lingered when it came time to separate. For as much as he protested against this quirky ritual… "…you could at least listen to the Alex Goot version of the song," he mumbled half-heartedly, resuming his post in front of the frying potatoes. "Since, you know, we played his songs at our wedding, and all…"

Still chortling merrily, Sebastian opened his mouth to respond to this—

 _I don't want another pretty face,_ the radio crooned, Carley Rae Jensen's hit melting into Jesse McCartney's. At the sound of the very first note, Sebastian— visibly ecstatic— gasped in glee.

No.

" _I don't want just anyone to hold!_ " he trilled, as if in answer.

No—!

" _I don't want my love to go to waste!_ "

"Nooo—!" Ciel cried (or, rather, laughed) as he was again pulled into his husband's arms and sashayed across the room.

" _I want you and your beautiful soul!_ "

Needless to say, supper burned. (Good thing no one really needed it.)

**XXX**


	7. Snapshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five quick snapshots of family life.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

 **Author's Note:** As I said before—yesterday on tumblr, I reblogged one of those "send me a prompt and I'll probably write a ficlet for it" posts. I was flabbergast by how many requests I had for more Bi/Asmus and Toth! In fact, I still have a number of adorable prompts waiting in my tumblr inbox… I do hope to get to them later. But for now, please enjoy these brief little "Bicentennial" snippets, as requested by readers. :3

 **Warnings:** SebaCiel, OCs, part of the "Bicentennial" series, all post-"666." All of these ficlets were written and edited in about 10 minutes each, so if they suck, that'll be why. 8D (I'd like to write some of these _properly_ , at some point...)

**XXX**

**Snapshots**

**XXX**

**Prompt: Ciel gets territorial over his babies in birdie form.**

Requested By: Anonymous

_(Wow, this one is kinda lame, sorry. :C AND IT WAS SUCH A CUTE IDEA, TOO. orz I'll have to try and do it justice later. 8D;)_

At first, the park authorities tried to do something about it.

They assumed the problem was caused by a small family of barn swallows— notoriously violent little buggers— who'd made a home in the pavilion, and felt threatened by the families who spent time at the playground. It wasn't an unreasonable guess, all things considered. But upon closer inspection from all parties involved (the curious kids, their concerned mothers, the groundskeepers who were worried about getting sued), it was discovered that the bird that kept nosediving others away from the swing-set was not a barn swallow at all.

It was a crow.

One of three crows, rather. An adult, and two fuzzy babies, the latter of which were more prone to hopping than flying. Upon their discovery, many of the younger kids at the park had squealed and attempted to touch them— only to have their fingers nearly pecked off by the fuming mother-crow.

"Well, mamas are mamas," an ornithological specialist (that guy who looked like Santa with a pair of binoculars who watched the birds from 2 to 4 every Saturday) had commented with an air of good humor. "And crows are very smart. Maybe it'd just be best to leave them alone… Until her hatchlings grow up, anyway."

" _Ca-caw_ ," the crow had added, as if in agreement.

At first, some of the more frequent visitors to the playground had protested, complaining that this wasn't fair— that this was _dangerous_ — that really, they should just call animal control and be done with it… But the kids (who noticed these things) said they didn't mind, particularly, because the crows only made a ruckus on Mondays through Fridays from 4 until 5:30, after which they all "suddenly vanished" (…as if to be replaced by two dark-haired toddlers and some boy who might be their brother, the lot of whom always seemed to show up _exactly_ where the birds had been. But the adults never listened to that nonsense).

In any case, the kids added, they didn't mind sharing with the crows. Sharing was caring, and it was fun to see the two fuzzy fledglings sit atop the swings and flap their bitty wings, their mama plucking at the chains with scaly feet— making the seat wobble in the wake of pseudo-pushes. It was fun, like something seen on the Discovery Channel. Sometimes, they would gather around and cheer the babies on. And sometimes, the mama crow would even allow someone to get close enough to make the swings rattle and shake… and the fledglings would squeak and flap harder, and leap off their swing with help of that momentum.

Usually, they would then land in the sand with a plop, and the children would applaud their attempt, and the process would continue.

But one day, when the little ones went soaring— they actually took flight.

And then all three flew away.

* * *

**Prompt: Ciel and Sebastian take Asmus and Toth on a family outing to the amusement park \8'D/**

Requested By: Anonymous

"This certainly brings back memories…"

That was putting it rather mildly. Sebastian chuckled in agreement as he glanced down at his musing husband: smile soft with affection and nostalgia as he watched Ciel glance slowly around the familiar vestibule. The fountain was just as tacky as it'd always been, and the ticket stands as garishly painted; in the distance, there were roller coasters and psychedelic game booths, all of which were glistening in the first frosts of early autumn.

"It almost feels like… this is where it all began," the once-butler murmured, readjusting his hold on the small bundle in his arms. Wrapped in many fuzzy layers of magenta, the 6-month-old graced her father with a pink-gum yawn and nestled closer into his warmth. In Ciel's careful embrace, a blue-clad Toth was doing much the same— squirming and half-asleep. Dressed as they were, the twins were more winter clothing than they were children. (That would certainly make diaper changing a hassle…)

"I'm sorry we couldn't come when it was still warm," Sebastian sighed, even as he glanced sheepishly towards the nearby fountain. Noticing this, Ciel was quick to usher his whole family towards the landmark, as well as to wordlessly help his once-butler ease onto the ledge. In some twisted way, it was almost kind of funny— to see Sebastian in his jeans again, and his leather jacket, and his fingerless gloves, looking for all the world like an attractive young adult… but moving like a grandmother who'd just had her hip replaced.

The once-earl smiled weakly, pressing a kiss to his lover's temple as he sat down beside him.

"Well, you didn't want to come in your wheelchair," the fledgling reminded with a chuckle, readjusting the diaper bag he'd looped around his shoulder. Somewhere, in the very, very back of his mind, Ciel wondered what they looked like to the other park guests— what lies the mortals would tell themselves to explain these two kids with kids of their own. (Silly, ignorant humans. Ah well.) "You were very insistent, as I recall. Something about not wanting to miss out on the Ferris wheel."

Another half-grin, beautiful in its embarrassment. "I am a man of priorities, baby bird."

" _Obviously._ But it's just as well," Ciel tacked on in teasing afterthought, his grin widening by teeth as he glanced back towards the baby he was bouncing. "That we had to wait until autumn, I mean. After all… we finally found a good use for them, didn't we?"

Laughing, the not-boy tugged a bit on little Toth's hat— loose, furry, and sporting googly eyes. Asmus was wearing one herself, though red and fuzzy. Cookie Monster and Elmo, finally at home on heads again.

_How fast time flies…_

As his husband giggled, and his children wriggled, Sebastian's chapped lips curled into a breathtaking smile— scarlet gaze as warm and soft as the silly caps his offspring wore. "…I love you, Ciel," the devil heard himself whispering— not quite sure where the confession came from, all of a sudden, but knowing it had never been more true than it was at that moment. "I love all three of you. So much…"

Ciel flushed, his answer reflected in his own bright eyes.

"…but you're still not going to let me get a corn dog, are you?"

"Not on your life."

* * *

**Prompt: Explain the trip to the Corn Palace with the Spears! XD**

Requested By: Anonymous

"You might not want to touch that," Sebastian informed Will cheerfully, stopping his reaper-friend mid-reach. The bespectacled immortal lifted his brow as the devil smirked, turned the key in his ignition, and tossed the "souvenir" corn cob from the front seat to the back. "It got a bit dirty."

"…"

For a long while, Will said nothing in response to this: merely slipped into the demon's car, buckled his seat-belt, and allowed about 20 miles of "South Dakota scenery" (in this case, read as "more corn") to pass by the windows.

Then—

"…you and the brat ripped that off of the Corn Palace's wall and used it as a dildo, didn't you?" the reaper intoned flatly, his expression as dull and disgusted as Sebastian's was cheerful and animated.

"Oh, that's not _all_ we did," Sebastian sang in response, his expression absolutely _wicked_ in its amusement. "After we got our hands on the cob, we also—"

And then William blacked out. For the entire length of the next 22 and a half minute story, conveniently. Or so he chose to tell anyone who bothered to ask.

* * *

**Prompt: Ciel spending quality time with one or both of his babies~ (And if you can sneak a Disney movie in there, that would be awesome as well, but you don't have to. XD)**

Requested By: mukkufan

_(If it helps, I imagine they sing the "working song" from Enchanted as they do… what they do. XD; DOES THAT MAKE IT DISNEY ENOUGH?)_

It was Daddy/Daughter Day at the Phantomhive house… Which by default meant it was also Mother/Son Day, because that's just how the family demographic broke down. So when Sebastian and Asmus ducked through the door with a wave and a promise to bring back waffles from Wendell's, Ciel and Toth were left to stare at one another over bowls of cereal, each still dressed in their footie pajamas.

"…so, what would you like to do?" the once-earl asked the younger of his two children, not surprised when he was answered by a vague shrug. Toth had never been particularly vocal, and being separated from his sister only exacerbated that. Ciel knew not to take it personally. (Really, it would have been stupid to take it personally, since Toth's sobriety hadn't been inherited from _Sebastian.)_ "Well, then…" the not-boy continued after a long moment, a deviant little smirk crawling onto his face. "The usual?"

"…" A pause. Toth glanced up at this rather cryptic offer, blinking once, slowly… Then he grinned, nodding and snickering.

"Okay." Ciel clapped his hands together; as one, the pj-clad pair scrambled from their seats, knowing they had to work quickly, swiftly. Efficiently. But then, that was what bonding was all about. "You grab your father's Clooney movies, and I'll get my spare Disney DVDs. We'll see how many we can switch out _this_ time before they get back."

* * *

**Prompt: Maybe some cuteness between the children? Please, if you maybe could?**

Requested By: keela1221

"~~~!" Wholly alarmed, Toth floundered and flailed: lithe little body twisting left and right, back and forth, as his eyes frantically searched for band-aids, or moist towels, or soap. Unsurprisingly, he could find none of those things on the side of the street; within a few moments, he was reduced to hand-wringing and frantic gulping.

_Asmus…_

His twin, meanwhile, was squirming as well— but due to pain, rather than panic. Biting hard on her bottom lip, Asmus rocked herself back and forth, clutching her knee and wordlessly sobbing. Pearly tears leaked from her clamped eyes; blood oozed from a jagged scrape. Both fluids landed in tiny patches and puddles beside them on the pavement, glinting in the sun like the metal of the dinged and discarded scooter. Toth privately wished to kick the stupid toy that had dared to hurt his twin, but knew such displays wouldn't do them any good, now.

Crouching and uncertain, the four-year-old swallowed thickly, his dark eyes soft with empathy. Asmus' injury sent phantom aches down his own limbs… But that was nothing in comparison to the agony his heart was in while watching her cry. There was nothing Toth hated as much as seeing his big, strong, brave older sister hurting…

He had to do something. But what? What would Mama do? Or Daddy? What would Asmus do when he used to hurt himself?

…oh yes.

"—-!" Flinching faintly, the young girl gasped in mild surprise as her brother dipped gracelessly forward, brushing his lips gingerly to her bruising knee. The kiss was a light one, and careful to avoid any raw or tender skin. It did not sting. Instead, it felt warm. Comforting. As he pulled away, Toth offered Asmus a beautiful beam, reaching out to pat her head affectionately.

 _It'll be okay_.

"…" With one last snuffle, his sister smiled. "Thanks, Toth."

**XXX**


End file.
